A Cold Dark Promise (Cold Justice #8.5)(8)

“Here.” A low, male voice made her jump as a glass of iced water appeared in front of her.

She hadn’t heard Jack Reilly step into the courtyard. The man moved quietly for such a big guy, not even disturbing the air around him. She took the glass from his hand. “Thank you.”

Reilly had strong features, a sharp nose and a stubborn chin. Not pretty, but handsome in a deeply masculine sort of way. So far, he’d been nothing but polite to her.

She took a sip of water, and it slid down her throat in welcome relief. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She hadn’t even known she was thirsty until she’d started drinking. Alcohol would have been preferable, but Reilly didn’t look like the sort who’d approve of her drinking in the daytime.

He looked like the sort of man who followed the rules and never lost control. Jane was good at control, too. Hers masked a level of grief that, when she lost it, reduced her to a pathetic crying mass of hysteria who couldn’t function in the real world. But she had to function. She had to survive and be ready to take care of Taylor as soon as she got her child back.

“You should come inside,” he said.

She bristled.

Reilly was bulkier than Alex Parker across the shoulders but shared that same dominant male vibe that set her teeth on edge and made her want to run. She met his steady, blue gaze. She was never running again.

“Why?” she asked.

They were alone at the small chateau, which was more a grand house than castle. The staff had left them some food, but Alex had told them their services weren’t required and to take the week off. Hopefully they wouldn’t be here that long.

She tried not to think about it, but it was possible in less than a week’s time she’d have her daughter back—or she might have lost her forever.

She’d bet on Alex Parker any day of the year. Her jaws clamped together, matching the tension in her cramped fingers. Alex was ruthlessly efficient. The scariest thing about him was that he looked so incredibly normal, like a guy you’d want to date. But Jane knew exactly how deadly he could be. Not that Mallory Rooney seemed to mind…

“It’s cooler inside,” Reilly said reasonably.

He moved as if to touch her, and she swerved to avoid him. “I stopped doing what men thought best for me years ago, Mr. Reilly. So, unless that’s a direct order, I’d rather not.”

He had lightly tanned skin, military short, dark-blond hair that glinted in the sun, and intelligent blue eyes. His expression didn’t alter at her defiant tone, but she got the impression he was trying to figure her out. He had the calm, patient look of a man used to dealing with difficult clients.

“Finish the water, Ms. Sanders. I don’t want you collapsing and having to go to the ER and risk being seen.”

Taylor was the only thing in the world that mattered to her, and Jane would never jeopardize this mission. So she drank the water, the slide of it quenching her parched throat.

Reilly reached out for the glass, and she handed it back. Their fingers brushed, and an electric shock jumped across the connection. Her eyes shot to his, and she saw his pupils flare in reaction even though the rest of his expression remained implacable. She was surprised that her body had responded that way to a man when her mind was so focused on her daughter. She hated that it betrayed her with something as basic as physical attraction.

Maybe this was why the universe had punished her. For being such a terrible mother.

Reilly shifted his stance. Clearly, he was going to stand there all day until she gave in to his commands. She didn’t like him bossing her around. She didn’t like being dominated. She didn’t like that tiny ember of attraction that had flared to life out of the cold wasteland of her heart. She needed Jack Reilly to leave her alone, and she knew exactly how to make him do it.

“Was there something else you wanted?” she asked suggestively, giving him a thorough once over.

He took a step back as she’d known he would. Jack Reilly was not the sort of guy to fool around on the job.

She moved toward him, and he retreated a second step and then stood his ground as if remembering he was the one who was armed and dangerous. Baiting him beat staring at the reflection of light on the water and wondering if her daughter would remember her. The sooner he left her alone the happier they’d both be. She ran her hand over the warm cotton of his shirt front and felt his muscles ripple in response.

He grabbed her wrist with the hand that wasn’t holding the empty glass of water. “Ms. Sanders,” he warned.

“Jane,” she insisted. He smelled warm and male and wore some tangy aftershave that teased her senses.

“What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her.

“Your job is to watch my every move and make sure I don’t run down to the yacht club, correct?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She wanted to shock him into keeping his distance. “You could do that much more easily if we were both naked.”

His lips firmed in disapproval, which unexpectedly made tears prick her eyes.

Making someone hate you was easy, it just took a few bold or bitchy moves. She slowly moved her hand lower, letting her fingers drift over the front of his pants, giving him plenty of opportunity to avoid her touch. Testosterone practically oozed off him. There was no way he’d take this sort of treatment lying down.

“Why, Mr. Reilly. I do believe you think my idea has merit.” She didn’t stop stroking him, and he didn’t move away, though his eyes slitted further and his nostrils flared. The fingers around her one wrist tightened another notch.